


Fragile Hopes

by Sarcastic_Cupcake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, POV Lesbian Character, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-01
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2018-04-07 03:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4248177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Cupcake/pseuds/Sarcastic_Cupcake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone (but them) thought they would be perfect for each other. They were both extremely gifted in math, and they shared many of the same interests. A match made in heaven! But she was a lesbian, and he...he was too nice, sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fragile Hopes

**Author's Note:**

> The sentences in parentheses are taken from the story she was reading. That's why the pronouns change: they are actually talking about her.

The first time I read it, it's a simple, lighthearted story. (We have lunch together, helping each other with homework, or playing Minecraft, or just talking.) Memories, but from his perspective, not mine. I read it quickly, smiling at the unmistakable feel of his work. It's a good, well-written story. I think I'll read it again.

The second time I read it, I see more details. (She chats with me now. She sends me stories and snippets of the life puzzle that I’ve put together from bits and pieces.) He talks about our friendship, the secrets I've shared. It's interesting to see myself through his eyes. I'm curious now; how does his mind work? Who am I to him? I might find out if I read it again.

The third time I read it, I glimpse unhappiness. (I have to make a decision, and it has to work. It has to betray nothing. I am ashamed. No. Embarrassed. No. Guilty. No. Some sort of emotion.) This surprises me; whenever I think of him, I think of a cheerful grin, always ready to share his innocent joy with me. Why is there sadness? I missed something, didn't I. I read it again.

The fourth time I read it, something clicks. (Instead I had to dream and love. And now it put together. She was in the same situation.) He likes me. _No. Nonono. Nonononono. This isn't happening, this can't be true._ I am in denial. But as I take a deep breath and force myself to think logically, I realize that it might be happening, it might be true. It will be clearer if I read it again.

The fifth time I read it, I focus on each individual word and how it forms part of a sentence. (All the while, I play the part of the friend. Smiling, laughing. What fun. In truth, it was almost painful to see her. I know I am lying.) I make an effort to not skim over the sentences like I usually do, and the tiny hints I find all point to the same conclusion. I was right. But instead of happiness, all I feel is stress and anxiety. _What have I done?_

I don't read it a sixth time. I can't. It would just remind me of how much of an absolute and utter failure of a friend I am. I should not cause him shame or embarrassment or guilt or pain. If anything, I should be there to comfort him. And yet all of this is my fault. It is my fault he feels he has to lie. I have made him play the part of the friend. I have broken his heart without realizing it.

* * *

I don't sleep that night. I lie awake, tossing and turning. But it's no use; no matter what I do, I can't fall asleep. My mind returns again and again to the situation I have unexpectedly found myself in. Eventually, around four the next morning, I pass out from sheer exhaustion.

I don't feel the effects of sleep deprivation the next day until, ironically, it's time for me to wind down and go to bed. It feels like a switch has been flipped somewhere inside of me and all of a sudden, I can't stop crying. I haven't been this sad since - it's been so long that I don't even remember. It doesn't matter. I weep for our shattered friendship, ruined only by my inadequacy as a friend. I bawl, in an unusual moment of self-pity, for myself and my terrible loneliness. I sob for him and the pain he feels. I wail at the unfairness of a first love, of any teenage love. Is this what he felt? Is this what he feels?

* * *

I lose count of the many times I read it. Each time, my eyes fill with tears. I feel like something has broken in me. We are still friends, but it's...different, somehow. It shouldn't be. I can only hope that I heal enough to fix it.


End file.
